ALYVOS

I don't know what to say. I want to tell her that the ribbon doesn't matter. That I love her scars because they show how strong she is and what she's survived. That she couldn't be any lovelier to me no matter what she did or wore, because it doesn't change anything for me. But that'll just scare her, so I grunt.

And her face falls with disappointment. Damn it. I keffed that up. “How are you feeling?”

Her lips part, and then she breaks into a jaw-cracking yawn. A second later, she gives a little grimace of embarrassment that's adorable to see. “I guess I'm tired. I'm sorry. What time is it?”

“Early afternoon.”

She bites her lip. “I think my schedule's messed up. Or maybe because it's always dark…” She lets her words trail off and touches the edge of the ribbon.

“You can sleep—”

“Oh no, that's all right.” She clasps her hands in her lap and gives me a bright smile. “I'll go to sleep when everyone else does.”

“There's no need to wait. No one's going to bother you. I'll show you how to work the basic controls here in the room and get you set up with an identification so you can come and go as you please.”

She hesitates. Then, “Thank you.”

I grit my teeth as she thanks me again. So much thanking, so much hiding her thoughts. It makes me crazy. I want her to yell at me. I want her to demand more. To tell me that she's hungry or thirsty or that I shouldn't push her to bed because she can do what she wants. But she just smiles and clasps her hands and looks so exhausted that it's pitiful. Her shoulders are slumped and her posture is that of a wilting flower. It's been a long, hard day for her—hell, a long, hard month—and I'm betting that she's emotionally spent, if not physically. Somehow I think if I told her she needed to stay awake until midnight, she'd simply clasp her hands in her lap and sit there with a smile on her face, determined to do just that because she'd want to please me.

I can't wait for the day she realizes that the way she can please me best is to tell me to kef off.

Today's not that day, though. I move forward and take her hand in mine and she jumps a little, startled at the touch. Damn it. “That's my fault,” I tell her. “I should have told you I was moving closer.”

“Oh, I knew you were moving toward me.” Iris tilts her head up at the sound of my voice. “I was just…distracted.” Her cheeks are flushed slightly.

“Distracted by what?”

“Nothing important,” she says swiftly. “I can sleep on the floor, you know. It won't be a bother. Or anywhere there's a quiet out-of-the-way spot. I don't want to be a burd—”

I growl before she can finish that statement. “If you tell me you're a burden, so help me, I'm going to lose my mind.”

Her becoming flush disappears and her face bleaches of color. She leans back, and terror is clear in her body. Kef. I've said the wrong thing again. Her entire body trembles and she holds herself very still. “I'm sorry—”

“Iris,” I state calmly. I want to cup her face in my hands, but that'll probably terrify her, so I simply squeeze her hand. “Stop it. Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you if you disagree with me. All right?”

“All right.”

I make a frustrated noise. “Are you just telling me that because it's what I want to hear?”

“Yes?”

I can't help but huff a laugh at that.

“I just…this is all very new for me,” she whispers. “It's hard for me to remember that I'm not back in the cage. That everything can't change at a moment's notice…again.”

“I understand. I just hate seeing you so afraid.”

“Then don't look,” she retorts, and then goes pale again. “I'm sorry—”

“Don't you dare apologize for that. I loved it.” I rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “Now, you're sleeping in my room tonight and I don't want you to tell me that the floor is fine or any other random corner you pick out. You've been through a rough time in the last while. You're barely holding together. You're going to sleep in my bed tonight and that's all there is to it.”

Iris looks as if she wants to protest, but she eventually nods. “I'm…a little scared to go to sleep.” She licks her lips and her breathing speeds up. “If you leave, I just worry I'm going to wake up and think I'm back there in the cage. I can't stand the thought of that.” She caresses my hand and then holds it to her breastbone. “Will you stay and sleep with me tonight so I'm not scared? It doesn't have to be sexual. I just want the company.” She pauses for a moment. “Unless you want it to—”

“Stop,” I tell her before she tries to give me something she shouldn't. “Your body is yours. I'll sleep in the room if you want company tonight. It doesn't have to be in the bed. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you,” she says in a small voice and squeezes my hand. “It's stupid, I know—”

“It's not stupid. You're talking to an ex-soldier that wore body armor for three years straight.” Her little smile is heartbreaking, and I want to squeeze her against my chest again. I shouldn't, though. I'm already touching her far too much. “If you're tired, lie down. I'll set you up in the systems in the morning.” I can send a note to the others via my wrist-comm that I'm going to be spending time tonight with Iris until she's comfortable. The noble part of me thinks I should sneak out and leave after she's asleep, but if she wakes up, I don't want her to think she's alone.

So I'll stay.

I set the room lights to dim and then change the settings to sleep mode. Soft noise pipes into the room, a peaceful, numbing sort of sound blanket that helps me relax.

She smiles to hear it. “Is that the ocean?”

“Yeah. I can't sleep when it's too quiet. Does it bother you?”

“Not at all. I like it. Makes me think of home. Maybe if I hear that I won't wake up and think I'm in a cage.” She lies back on the blankets, her body small and delicate in my large bed.

“You want a pillow? The other humans use them, but I don't have any.”

“I'm fine.”

I sigh heavily, because even if she wanted one, she wouldn't say anything. I'm learning that about her. “What if I folded up a blanket and you used it as a pillow?”

“If you like.”

I decide to do it anyhow, and get my softest blanket from storage. I fold it into a neat square and then move to the side of the bed and set it down next to her cheek. “Here it is.”

She sits up and tucks it under her head. “Thank you, Alvos.”

I think about the way she mispronounces my name. The other humans don't have trouble with it. Perhaps her tongue works differently than theirs. Humans have great variations in their appearances, so it would stand to reason that they might have different tongues as well. Either way, I don't mind it. I kind of like it. Mine is the only name I've heard her speak so far, and I hope mine is the only one she makes unique. Perhaps that's selfish of me. “Of course. Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Would you tell me if you weren't?”

“No?” Her voice is small.

I snort and settle in on the floor. It's not the most comfortable, but I've slept in worse. As the room grows quiet, I silently tap out a message to the others to let them know I'll be unavailable because Iris is afraid to sleep alone. I expect Cat and Fran to reply with some quick comment about how they need to protect Iris from me, but no one does. Maybe Sentorr told them she was mine, and because of that, I'd never harm her. Or maybe they figured it out on their own. The thought makes me feel oddly proud. I lean back against the wall and feel the curves of my horns press against the hard surface. Not comfortable. But that doesn't matter. I listen to the steady rhythm of Iris's breathing and feel a strange sense of contentment, one I haven't felt in a really, really long time.

On the bed, Iris gasps and jerks awake. She starts to struggle under the blankets, and I immediately surge forward, touching her shoulder. I half expect her to shriek with surprise, but she goes totally still, her entire body trembling. It's almost like she's waiting for something.

“I'm here,” I murmur. “You're safe, Iris.”

Her body sags back against the blankets. “Alvos.”

“Right here.”

“I didn’t know where I was.” Her nostrils flare and her hand grips my wrist tightly. I notice that her silky hair is messy and the ribbon she’d carefully tied over her eyes has come loose and revealed her scars. “I thought I was back there…” She sucks in a deep breath. Another. Another, as if she’s trying to calm herself with lungful after lungful. “But the air smells different. You smell different.”

“That's right,” I reassure her. “You're not there. You're here with me.”

She takes another shuddering breath and nods, falling back against the blankets. She's beautiful and vulnerable against them, and I don't even care that the ribbon falls off of her face and exposes her scars. I wouldn't care if she ever wore that thing. She's hauntingly lovely to me and perfect in every way. The only thing I see when I see those scars are not her flaws but the bastards that did this to her. I wish I'd been the one to pull the trigger. I wish I'd been the one to see the light go out of their eyes so they knew it was for her, that I did it in her name.

I have to be content with Kivian's justice, though.

Iris tucks the blankets up to her chin and huddles underneath them. She doesn't look happy about the thought of going back to sleep. Despite the warnings not to touch her that are screaming in my brain, I reach out and brush my fingertips over her brows, smoothing her hair back from her face. “I'm here with you.”

She doesn't shudder away from my touch, and I hate that I feel a sense of pleasure at that realization. Her face turns to mine and she bites her lip, then speaks. “Could you sleep with me tonight? Just so I know where I am?”

I stare at her in shock. “You trust me that much?”

“I have to trust someone,” Iris whispers, and reaches out to touch my hand. “Or I think I'll fall apart.”

“I won't touch you,” I promise her. “I can lie on top of the blankets.”

“Actually, I'd prefer that you hold me,” she says, and then an uncertain look crosses her face. “But just hold me, if that's okay.”

It's the first time she's demanded something instead of sweetly agreeing with whatever. I love it, and it means that she feels strongly about this. “Of course. You want me under the blankets or over?”

“Under is fine.” She shivers and then pulls her hand from mine, sliding the blankets back in an invitation.

I try to ignore the response of my cock. Iris is feeling scared and vulnerable, but my cock doesn't care. It reacts to her nearness, the suggestion of those pulled back blankets and joining her in the bed. I adjust myself, tucking my length up and into my belt so it won't jut against her while she sleeps. It's painful and pinching, but I welcome that, because maybe it'll be enough of a distraction.

I hope.